


Little Hands, Silent Tears

by CybertronianBeing, spotted_left



Series: Small Volleydorks Mix #2 [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxious Yachi Hitoka, Backstory, Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Collaboration, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Fire, Gun Violence, Heroin, Homophobia, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Kidnapping, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Nervous Yachi Hitoka, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Protective Sawamura Daichi, Protective Tsukishima Kei, Sad Nishinoya Yuu, Super Smash Bros. Brawl, That Tag Could Not Be More Accurate, Thunderstorms, exhausted tbh, trigger warning, why is that a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CybertronianBeing/pseuds/CybertronianBeing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotted_left/pseuds/spotted_left
Summary: ...explainations (in excruciating detail) of their backstories. Corresponding with each of the angels in "What Could Go Wrong," and your challenge is to keep from crying or breaking holes in your wall or all of the above.We wish you the very best of luck.
Series: Small Volleydorks Mix #2 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798276
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Pills & Potions - Kei Tsukishima

**Author's Note:**

> Don't come after us...we aren't trying to hurt...you too bad. Just kidding we're trying to destroy your soul. Sorry, not sorry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's the adult in a kid world, a kid in a drug world, and just somebody lost in a universe so backwards he's not sure which way is up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire story belongs to @/spottedleft on Instagram. We mildly collaborated for this piece. I merely added a bit of detail and corrections...but this is theirs ^-^ so yeah.
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** DRUG USE AND FORCED DRUG USE, AS WELL AS IF YOU HAVE EMITOPHOBIA, PLEASE SKIP TO BOTTOM FOR NON-GRAPHIC EXPLAINATION!! TY <3
> 
> AGAIN IF YOU DIDN'T GET THE HINT, IWA WROTE THIS!!!

It's one a.m in the...morning? Late at night? He’d always debated that with his siblings: whether or not those late hours after midnight counted as morning or ‘late-at-night’, although that wasn’t even an actual time. 

Everyone is asleep in a house, near the outskirts of town, well…well almost everyone. A golden blonde-haired kid, around the age of twelve, stumbles out of the bathroom, sick from pills he was forced to take by his parents. The reason for that? Not even he knows that one.

The pills aren't prescribed to him, oh no, they're prescribed for an adult. If his primary care doctor ever - who’s he kidding? Kei didn’t have one. None of his siblings did, either, even though his baby sister is barely one. 

He is forced to take two pills, if he's lucky of such a small dose. Honestly, it surprises him that he isn't dead by now, taken he generally has to choke down two as the bare minimum most days. 

Asahi, they disgust him. They’re parents who're nothing but heartless drug addicts. They don't give a damn if he or his younger siblings die. They would probably just say, "Oh well, not our problem," These aren’t the parents he remembers from back when he was younger. To an extent, they’re too far gone most days to care if they lost each other. 

At least they’d be in the heavens when they did. Wouldn’t feel a thing.

These - these are monsters: the people he was supposed to look up to, the people who're supposed to help guide him. The demons in his mind that...are (??) his parents scarred his innards all the way from his core to the outside of his protective shell. He actively loses all his respect. For himself, for them, for the world. Why won’t someone do something RIGHT?

He can vaguely remember how his parents became this way, but it’s all blurry. Drugs blur everything together, make everything seem okay. Just because of one of their stupid friends got them into it didn’t mean anything. That fact felt backwards in a sort of way, as he heard parents asking their children if they’d also jump off a bridge if their friends did it.

Who knew the parents walked the edge, not the kids? Pathetic, thinking it was so cool and eventually ended up becoming so damned addicted. Ruined their own lives, and then this family. 

Tsukki trips over his own feet, right soon as he reaches his bedroom door. He feels close to having practically no energy to move, as moments before he was puking his guts out. Asahi, he couldn't wait to get away from this hell he called home. As the oldest, despite only at the age of twelve, it fell on him to take care of everyone. To make sure his siblings were all safe, full, and clothed. Sheltering them from the things he’d seen, what he didn’t want them to know. 

He hates it here, he hates his parents with a burning passion. 

Kei wasn’t scared often. But, when they threaten him with that needle, it’s real fear. Regardless of whether he got scared of much, that always snapped him into the deep fear that boiled over into rage. 

The needle full of heroin, something he wanted nothing to do with. 

Asahi, what's he saying? He doesn't want to deal with any of this. He never asked for this life or lifestyle. The hand the universe dealt just wasn’t as strong, his parents rivered it big in the wrong direction. 

And he’s all out of chips.

He manages to finally get up, utilizing the wall as a brace. Kei stumbles into his dark room, trying not to trip and die on something, or waking the whole house. Discussing the bad experience last time he did that is...not something he wants to undergo.

But, alas, the moon finally gets into his bed, plopping down in exhaustion, stomach first. He slowly rolls over onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, the popcorn peeling and white fading. 

Tiny voices and horrible thoughts fight a war within his head, fighting for his sweet attention. Them all, however small, utter lies. His thoughts are nothing but bad. In the pitch, he grips his hair tightly. Squeezing his eyes tight, wishing it for sleep. "No. No. Please, not again. Not tonight. I just want to sleep tonight. Please...stop" He begs, scarcely, tearing up a bit. 

His will fights harder than the bile burns in the back of his throat ever still. 

How long has it been since these voices popped up into his head? A few years now? Possibly even longer? He can’t tell. He spent many nights awake, too many nights. More than he would like. 

It wasn't until later, he was confined to the living room. His parents and their friends shot up drugs, laughing it up with their head firmly stuck in the clouds...until he witnessed a...man die from a heroin overdose, leaving him with little choice.

He took his chances. Suddenly it all became clear, people aren’t supposed to die. This was all just supposed to be fun and games, like some casino game.

He stole the phone, right off of the corpse, and called the police without an ounce of remorse whatsoever.

That day: the day he finally broke free from the hell he called home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we will be collaborating on the backstories more in the future, it will be listed in the chapter titles who helped collab/write!! @spotted_left is James/Iwa and I'm Cal!!
> 
> EXPLAINATION!! Kei is forced to take pills by his parents, who are addicted to drugs. These pills are very bad for his health and have many negative side effects. Eventually, when he witnesses a friend of his parents overdose on Heroine and pass away, he takes that chance to call the police to protect him and all of his younger siblings.
> 
> p.s. this is practice for me with present tense, as I generally default to past tense, so thanks for understanding the hiccups!! -cal


	2. Neon Lights - Yuu Nishinoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's thrown into the lion's den...with nothing. He's known never to bring a knife to a gun fight, but what happens when he doesn't even have a knife to fight with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** slight depictions of vomit, suicide and homicide implications as well as non-graphic gore depictions. 
> 
>   
> This is another one of Iwa's and my fic collabs!! They write their depiction and then I fluff/flow/edit. It's really fun and we're probably gonna do that a whole lot for the backstory fics especially!!
> 
> P.S. we're updating this every Tuesday and Thursday/ Tuesday and Thursday nights (our time!!) so hit us up with a sub so you can get those good notifications for when they pop up next!!

"Goodnight, momma. Goodnight daddy!" Said a black-haired child to his parents, hovering at the mere age of six. With a hug and a kiss goodnight, he bid farewell to the both of them and skipped off to his room. Nishinoya-san chasing after him, threatening tickles if his son didn’t hurry up to bed.

Giggles of only slight terror and joy floated all the way to his room, his energy through the roof regardless of the ridiculously overdue time. His bedtime abandoned far behind, his excitement boiled over. Only a few days before his birthday, he could hardly sleep as it was. He and his mother just finished planning out his birthday party and he was nearly leaping further than a gazelle. 

Normally, it’d be lights out at seven or eight. At times, that’d be the perfect cue for everyone to go to sleep, even his parents. When the menace of energy slept, so could the world. So says the universe, if he was awake so did everyone else. 

Even the cat? Even the cat. 

Twice was his name, given to him by the child himself. Picked it out proudly after his favorite character from his favorite television show mostly because the outfit the villain wore also looked slightly like the cat’s coat. Although...the non-anti-hero of the two was...just a tad bit...thicker. 

But we don’t talk about that, right?

It’s time to stan all shapes and sizes. :)

Just as the forecast predicted, thunder and lightning clashed, the cell right above them. Nothing alarming, even the wind wasn’t sustained, but quiet couldn’t be used to accurately describe, either. And even still: Yuu had no fear. Nothing was scary when mom and dad could protect him. When they’re happy and in love with each other, everything is perfect. 

The man, also sporting a dark raven-like hair color, helped Noya get into bed and settle down. Pulling the couple thick blankets, especially the weighted - since he normally got really cold at night, due to being small for his age - his son smiled up at him as warmth found his bones. 

Despite how high the thermostat got, he would always end up freezing at night. The doctor described this as temporary, however, and that it would surely go away as he aged and bulked up. 

Generally, his father or mother would read him to sleep, or sing a little song. With all the planning and late timing and thundering, it really just wasn’t necessary. The storms also helped him fall asleep, anyway, and they really never had to worry on nights like this.

Nights like this stayed uneventful. Nights like these remained peaceful. The cat slept, the adults slept, he slept. 

Unconsciousness reached for his mind - already so close to slipping him into a deep slumber. Flopping on his side, he sighed towards the wall to keep his nightlight out of his eyelids. 

Masked by the beauty of the weather, he nearly mistook it for a thundercrack. 

No lightning preceded that anyone was aware of. The bang was foreign to mother nature, clearly unrelated. Sobbing crept through the door crack, which were quickly desciphered as his mother. She wept loudly, distressed seemingly all the way from her toes to the top of her head.

For the first few seconds. As they progressed, it merged from agony to a more tangible, swallowable emotion of the sort. Rather than grieved tears, it mutated into what could only be described as laughter of pure insanity. 

Her laugh. The laugh he’d taken a fondness of. When his dad kissed hee neck or hugged her from behind and startled her. Or the times when he told her she looked only more beautiful than the cat’s litter box. 

That laugh. It made him shudder. As quickly as it’d confused him, he jumped from all the covers and peeked from his door ajar, then yanking it open. The six-year-old hears another of the same origin as the first. Then, it’s followed by unwanted thud-on-wood-flooring. 

The worst of it smashes him in the face: the nothingness. No thunder, the wind paused it’s doings and resumed it’s prayers. Lightning lit up the windows in all directions, but even the thunder didn’t dare interrupt. 

‘Soon as he reaches the living room, his blood runs cold and goosebumps dust his skin despite the new warm and thickly environment. He sways on his feet and finds the common-room light switch.

Both of them lie dead in the living room. Both have been shot in the head as pools of fresh crimson blood start to slowly pool out. Both seemed to welcome death tosoe extent or another, although dad’s face looks far from peaceful...but he does. Her hands in his, the wack smile far from her own lips. 

She looked beautiful, her long curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. Red...no, a white blouse decorates her shoulders, she doesn’t look crazy. She look sick mom with a gun in her hand. She looks like mom that killed dad. 

The sight forced puke up his throat violently, his parents’ bodies merely discarded there. Bits pieces of brain (of course, this is what his six-year-old brain decided it was) also flaked the floor. 

Their bodies slowly lightened pale while their hearts sat dormant, their bodies sickenly motionless. Shining in the new artificial light, the 45 colt revolver taunted the only warm bodies still in the room. 

The boy sprints to the bathroom, nearly losing all his dinner on his way there while bile tickles in his throat. Everything begins to rise, a new taste forcing a gag to completely split his brain.

After spilling his entire existence into the toilet, he leaves the bathroom. Coughing still, he expected to dry heave for a little bit longer, at least. 

For crying out loud, he’d most likely throw up for real a few more times, but in all honesty, that was most likely the least ofany concerns. Most likely, he was looking a bit pale himself, too. 

He didn’t DARE go to the living room for the phone. Rather, he slowly makes his way to his parent's bedroom, to call the police department. 

Especially during stormy nights like these, he’d never be able to sleep again. Not when each thunder rumble could hide much more luminous touches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't come after me but I named the chapter name after the song I was listening to at that time...and I think I'll start doing that more because my brain doesn't like to work correctly. 
> 
> Hit us with those Kudos and comments because those keep us going. we ly sm. 
> 
> p.s. Happy *late* National Non-Binary Day!!


	3. Do I Wanna Know - Rintarou Suna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> neon lights, bloody fights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this and then pasteing the second part/finishing part just a second after it's finished after I sleep. Exhausted from being emotional and working and biking 40km and working out ahahah please have mercy:))) -cal
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: slight descriptions of injuries, child neglect, and MAJOR warning for non-graphic kidnapping!!
> 
> AGAIN, THIS IS BY IWA. I MERELY HELPED FLUFF!!!!

Rintarou’s life was what people could call...terrible. To say the least, he grew up on the wrong side of town, or a version. Where occurrences of shootings, gangs, robberies, were the norm and the neighborhood kinds bet ounces of whatever they could fess up, rather than quarters. 

Regardless of how everyone else felt about his current living conditions, it was just another normal every-day sunrise and soon, sunset, for the dark brown haired eleven year old. Nothing new, everything in its place. It gets easier and easier to get used to everything after growing up in the only environment you’ve ever known.

His parents were never home when he returned from school, and generally wouldn’t arrive back until unholy hours into the night. Which, of course, meant he could play video games all he wanted at home, as long as his homework was already done, of course. 

At times, they’d end up finding him passed out on the floor, in front of the television, the game he was trying to beat on the pause screen if he was lucky to hit it in his doze. Crumpled candy wrappers or empty chip bags would surround him. Two liters wouldn't last a day or two if they weren't hidden somewhere where he couldn't reach them. 

Not even his sleep schedule could stunt the brains he was gifted with. He was also already doing well in school, so he wouldn’t worry about his grades slipping. 

The hot summer: Saturday afternoon, A little past two pm, the sun peaked to a point of baking the grass outside, forcing him to hermit inside for the time being.

Like most afternoons after school, he sat in the living room, playing on his console. It wasn’t apparent - although the weight of forgetting something sat on his conscience - that he had forgotten to lock the front door like he was supposed to. The windows sat unlatched carelessly as well, venting the summer heat and sitting to allow the condensation to run. 

Very rarely was it this steamy enough to be miserable outside of the small air conditioning unit for the living room and seldom was he not on top of keeping everything locked up to at least deter the idiots who had nothing better to do than be a bother. 

Rintarou’s golden eyes narrowed in concentration - his tongue stuck out to the side. A habit he’d picked up from a few of his mutuals at school: something he did when he was so focused. Whether that be on completing a hard level of whatever game he was playing, or zeroing-in on a test he barely studied for, and generally that was because he’d forgotten or didn't care to at all. 

A completed screen pops up, and a smile finds the child’s face. He raises a fist up to the air, "Hell yeah!" Pure joy radiates. Finally, finally he beats the troublesome game after many, many hours. 

That victory remains short-lived, and when he hears a click of a gun and reads its unmistakable presence behind his head rather than emitting from the video game, he shudders. His blood runs cold at the clack and forcing his joints to bring himself around, he stares down the barrel of a forty-five caliber, going cross-eyed. 

It was old news to hear stories of people being held at gunpoint in their own homes, but it never seemed right to assume that he’d ever exist in that same position.

The eleven year old flinches mainly in anticipation, the room heating quicker and more violently. Never in a million years and a day would he have anticipated ever truly feeling that much terror in his life. Sure, it wasn’t new to hear a shootout in the street or to get into a fight at school with some asshole who refused to realize they were nothing but a walking chode. 

Reading into the cold, narrow eyes of the gunner, it was clear they meant business. Their voice, just as rough as his eyes were penetrating, "Make any sudden movements and you're dead. Now you'll do as we say, understand?"

Suna could only nod his head. Too scared to speak, his breath hitched and his brain flew a million miles an hour. 

Although panicked, he knew better than to speak unless he was asked to. If he wanted to live to see another day, he’d increase his chances by holding his tongue rather than back talking. No matter the reason for his natural inclination to backtalk and curse was, he didn’t.

"Good, now follow us, and be a good child IF you don't wish to die," The man cowering behind a dark blue bandana bluntly hisses. Accompanying the colored cloth, his dark blue eyes bore into Rin’ as he slowly sets the controller down, his hands lacing up behind his head. Slowly standing, it’s tough not to notice the other five men, earning a gulp he wouldn’t actually let them hear. 

The knowledge that he's substantially out numbered, and the fact that it’s too futile to do...even slightly idiotic weighs his head down more than the pity he spared for himself - the self-hatred for being so careless. His back muscles tense in anticipation when a different person, still with the same stench, makes their way over. Taking hold like a parent’s, their child reaching too close to the heat, the man gripped his wrist. 

Rather than keeping him from getting burned, the man ties them tightly with thin rope that’s colored (and physically feels like) the little things they use for weed eaters. To an extent, it’s to the point that it’s convincing enough in the same regard - it’s for sure that exact twine. 

Another joins in, taking hold of Suna's other upper arm, borderline dragging the child out through the front door. Rintarou looked around in desperation. Friends, parents, anyone?  
If only to find no one. Panic overwhelmed him in the form of the grinding of his teeth, a blindfold suddenly finding his unforgiving eyes. Unable to break his own fall, he’s thrown into the back of a vehicle, Hollywood-like. If it wasn’t something actually real, he’d give it at least a chuckle.

Awkwardly sitting up, he works his face against his shoulder to try and get the blindfold off, but only locking up in fear when he hears the gun click and slide, locking and loading, again. Overstepping. Got it.

Even following everything, he swears he felt his heart stop and then restart at that precise moment. Key in the ignition, but the turnover was horrendous. 

The gunman he pictured relentlessly held a sick smile of satisfaction. At how well Suna has been cooperating with him so far, how easy it would be to get the payment now that the kid was in their custody unhurt and still alive; he smirked at how much fear he struck into the innocent kid. The twinge of fear of death instilled in the victim still gave the older man such a rush, such a feeling of unexplained predatory instincts. Sure, he didn’t admit these out loud, but who would? Who didn’t experience the feelings at all?

He can tell he's gonna have a complete ball shredding the last bits of innocence the boy has left as the doors slammed shut.

The engine turns over and as soon as the SUV’s willing, the driver steps on the gas. Everything shifts, and the child slams back into the trunk, and a bit of a yelp of fear and slight pain erups. He’s temporarily stunned, but he won’t give any satisfaction of letting them hear it. One, occupying the right back seat flips their head back with the same disgusting smile. 

"It might be quite bumpy where I’m headed," He mutters to himself, partly to soothe himself with the sound of his own voice and the other forcing his thoughts to converge into complete pieces. Bracing himself, for fear if they hear him, he pauses. They'll probably do something worse.

Time stretches into something, somehow further than splits. Forever turns into minute and a minute turns into forever, and he restrains the ducts in his eyes. Crying now won’t assist anyone.

But they seem more helpful than anything else as the car comes to a stop, making the child silently thank Asahi that it's over now. He slowly sits up using the trunk’s door, silently catching his breath, already feeling the bruises welt up. 

The physics of it all still didn’t take the forefront of mine. The pain was merely a distraction. A knife twisted into his chest cavity, and curiosity might actually kill him. What’s the point of the entire conniption? He’s not done anything wrong, these aren’t the police, anyway. 

The floodgates crack and more light fingers it’s way up into his blindfold, unwelcome post-dark tinted windows protecting his skin and eyes. He, very lightweight all the same, continues to lean for support. 

The support suddenly disappears, and he feels all his weight starting to fall out, only to be caught by unforgiving arms. "Let's go. We've made him wait long enough, especially with finding this...useless child he needed."

Oh, to be needed…

Suna bit his tongue, he swore he could taste his own blood as he forced himself to stay quiet and not talk back. They’ve given up completely on carrying him, and his nearly-battered body drags by his knees. As opposed to before, the others’ gait ups, as apparently the guy that needs him is impatient. His blood boils with rage but simmers with confusion...he was needed for something but was useless - to an extent - to them. How could that make sense?

If only his wrists were untied and the blindfold was gone, he’d give the guy a taste of his own damn medicine, because that’s exactly what he's asking for. 

Doors are opened in front of him, mystically in nature, with a loud creak. Sunlight disappears. Building lights provide hard transition. The lighting slightly dims, not that he can notice anyway, and eerie quiet blinds him more anyway. The men were whispering among themselves stop as he eners, but Suna didn't care to know what the discussion filled. 

I wasn’t like he did want to know, as all he did was listen to the light taps of their footsteps on the marble tiled floor. His mind filled in the blanks he couldn’t quite understand or didn’t know quite yet, and just like the stupid spy books detailed: every single one of his senses heightened to cover for his useless eyes. 

The room smelled almost...achey. A distant copper he could almost taste splattered something like the far wall and the supposed guard to his right had been chewing tobacco probably in the last hour or so. The one to his left, in turn, had been drinking but not too heavily. The building was most likely industrial of some kind because the air he was feeling could only be pushed by slow, industrial, yellow-tipped fans attached to the ceiling. The doors he entered in rolled metal-on-metal and weren’t on normal hinges. 

Nice place they had, there. Super nice. 

His anxiety kicked him in the throat as he was moved once again, but not all that far and he’s allowed to walk on his own this time. A bit better. 

Eventually, a hard right jerks him into what’s presumed as a frozen personal office, "Sir, we got him for you. He was pretty cooperative with us during the whole process. Amazes me that some kids are more cooperative than others" Automatically, he’s annoyed by that, clearly all they want is to aggravate him.

"So...this is the child of the Suna family? What's your first name, so I know what to call you?" A raspy voice fluffs his hair and goosebumps, and for once he’s thankful that he can’t see; he’s thankful he idn’t forced to make eye-contact with an icy glare. 

As if someone could read his brain, the blindfold disappears and hs squints to recover from the sudden artificial luminescence. 

A few feet in front of him, the raspy voice is apparently belonging to the short-haired bastard before him, forcing a bit of a flinch,. "R..Rintarou...Rintarou Suna," He silently curses himself for stuttering his answer. He sounds weak, feels weak; ridiculously pathetic. 

"Rintarou Suna, eh? Well, Rintarou. Your parents haven't been able to pay me back for a certain...thing. So, for their punishment, of a sort,. I had my henchmen here go ahead and take their pride and joy: their only child.”

Each ridge of the statement pops around in Rintarou’s head, popping back and fourth. He hopes his silense isn’t perceived as hostile, because it’s really just his stifling fear giving him lock-jaw. So, to avoid looking defiant, he averts all gazes and begins to count how many pieces of lint he can find on the floor and gives them creative color names rather than listening to anything that follows. 

It’s easier that way. Distracting. 

What child wouldn't be terrified at this point, especially after what this random, ugly, but somehow clean shaven guy told him. "If you do wish to know, For it will not matter in the mere future, I am Tanaka. I will not say my first name, because that is unimportant. If you address me at all, it’s Tanaka-san. That’s it. Now. I can finally send a message out to your parents, since you’re now in our custody. They only have a few hours to collect me my money and come here with it, if not...well...they’ve lost their only pride and joy," Well, he’s not very joyful. After lighting and taking the world’s longest cigarette drag, he blows it in Suna’s direction, “How tragic would that be?”

A breath hitches in Suna's throat as he literally forgets how to breathe, now he’s actually just trying to rile him up? A small growl erupts from him. "You had no right of taking me as hostage. You could've give my parents a few more days. They’re doing their best right now. We're not exactly the richest people," He snaps, trying to avoid sounding so matter-of-factly. 

Finally snapping feels good, but probably too good for his own good. , careful not to let his full anger out. He feels a strong impact against his face as he's knocked off balance, he tries to quickly catch himself, but with his wrist tied, he can’t and falls back, uttering a nice, rehearsed string of curse words.

"Take him away. Let's see if his parents come up with the money on time, Eh?”

“What do we do with it?” 

“You mean Suna-san, here?”

“Ah, yes boss.” 

“He’s a he, you know. Anyway, just...go let him be a kid for a few more hours. Just to keep him occupied, go let him hang out with my son.” 

He’s moved, and the ropes are cut with something abnormally small, like an exacto-knife or something. He stares down at his wrist, seeing a bit of where the twine bit in and runs his fingertips over the wounds

They’ll probably leave fancy scars, ones he’ll be able to tell stories about later in life, he thinks almost slightly fondly. Feet shuffle suddenly, and when Suna glances up, he's met with another child’s eyes. Clearly a few years younger than him, and way more behind on maturity...probably.

Only Asahi knows how much this little guy’s seen.

Possibly around the age of six or seven? A huge maybe on eight, if he had to make an estimate. Suna blinks a bit and flinches slightly as the child leans uncomfortably closer. "Woah, another kid? What's your name? I'm Ryuunosuke Tanaka!” The lopsided buzzcut practically yells, his grin big and eyes bright and sparkly.

A little kid. Somehow full of joy. That he's not alone anymore. The most baffling thing is that the kid’s not afraid that he’ll hurt him at all, he’s just concerned with being lonely and finally finding someone else to end up in his room. What IS this kid’s normal?

"U-uhh. Uh. I'm Rintarou Suna. Nice...to meet you?" The eleven year old tells him. Obviously not really good with communication. 

"Wanna play some Smash Bros?” Clearly the kid doesn’t do silence, either, “I have no one else to play it with usually." 

Suna's eyes brighten up a bit when Tanaka tells him that. He’s got a console, too? "Of course I'll play with you! That's one of my favorite games!" He exclaims with glee, before blushing a bit in embarrassment at his sudden outburst of excitement. 

"What are we waiting for then?! Let's go play!" Tanaka grabs his wrist and drags him over to the t.v., grinning to himself. Suna smiles a bit and let's the younger child drag him, knowing he's gonna have a good time...for the time he has left of being a kid.

After a few minutes, or hours (since only time would tell, even they didn’t know what it was), the door flies, revealing one of the two kids celebrating their victory of beating the other. 

"Ryuunosuke, say goodbye to your friend, your father wants to see him once again," A male says bluntly, though it’s hard for the man to hide that seeing them both happy and comfortable did make him happy. Nothing killed his throbbing eardrums than the silence that replaced as the elephant in the room. 

Ryu’ finds a bitter upsetness erupting within him, and to tamp it down, he hugs Suna tightly. He didn’t wish to let go. In fact, he would’ve much rather been able to keep this new kid as his friend forever. It’s the first child his age that’d visited since...forever. 

His little pink nose sniffles, not knowing which goodbye he means, knowing how horrible and cruel his father is. But, he still settles for something more alligator, crocodile-style, "See ya around, Suna. Please and safe and careful, okay?" 

Suna hugs him back genuinely, offering his best reassuring squeeze. Like a mother attempting to console a hopelessly joy-ridden child, he held him close - anything to reassure the smaller child. "Of course I will. Keep your head up, yeah? We'll see each other again someday, okay?" He tells young Tanaka, and the child nods gingerly in response. He separates himself from the younger lot. 

The two kids part ways as Suna follows the guy out of what's he assumes is Tanaka's bedroom or gaming room. Which, would make sense AND affirm his suspicions that Tanaka-san has...a bit of extra cash. That doesn’t change the fact he probably stole it. He probably did. But, regardless of how attained, it was his. 

Paintings and fancy wall decorations eye him as he makes his way past them. But, then it didn’t make sense. Why’d his parents owe this guy money when he already has so much. Even so, what’d they need him for? Nothing at the moment made sense, anyway, and asking himself questions didn’t help much, either.

Too busy trying to wrap his head around getting...kidnapped (to cope, his mind deems it as normal/regular and not harmful in much of any way) and then being drug into...what he assumed was some sort of mafia hideout. At least, it fit the description of an archetypical hideout, like the ones in the video games his parents finally saved enough money to buy them for him. 

He snaps out of his thought daze, he gets taken back to Tanaka-san’s office. He notices his parents sitting at the desk and his eyes brighten. "Mom! Dad!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will put extra trigger warnings (for the parts not yet pasted yet) up when story is finished. Will be finished shortly, I'm just seriously exhausted right now. 
> 
> Wanted to get this out this past weekend in honor of Mama Iwa's graduation but I suck at life and can't handle deadlines so at least this' here now. Iwa basically wrote this, I just edit and fluff up. 
> 
> ANYWAY, HAPPY GRADUATION!! You're amazing and I couldn't be more thankful to have a best friend who's also a mother who supports like no other. I couldn't be more blessed to have had the privilege to meet you and help write this amazing AU. Keep being amazing and kicking complete aft at life!!  
> -cal


	4. Rintarou Suna - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of Suna's Past!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***MAJOR MAJOR MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING*** Descriptions of drowning and graphic depictions of self-harm and brief implications of medical childbearing issues!! Read at your own risk <3

Glee gushes from his mouth. The two of them snap around at the familiar chime of their son’s voice.

"Rintarou, my baby! Thank goodness you're safe," His mother says, almost allowed to up and hug her son. 

"What a shame: this reunion has to end so soon,” Tanaka-san clicks his tongue annoyingly, “The mother who had to get her tubes tied because of her many miscarriages. When you finally got pregnant, you had to schedule his birth, because if you went into labor, your tubes would've ripped open and you would've bleed out to death, internally. Does that story sound about right? You worked so hard and won’t even get to keep him past the age of eighteen?”

Suna cringed at the insensitiveness dripping from the man’s words, and hatred welled. It scared him how much that rage overwhelmed his...more mild strong urge to hug his parents. Did the man’s words really mean THAT much in the grand scheme of things?

“Such a shame that today is the last time you two see him. You knew the deal and still don’t have my money."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Rintarou exclaims as his wrists are wrenched behind his back again. Attempts to get away are rendered useless. No-go. 

Nonetheless, he works to get away. Like a violated alligator within grip, he squirms and fights, desperately using any means to get away. A foot from nowhere trips him, and gracefully, he face plants the floor. Who knew the dust-covered tile needed a kiss?

And, to his dismay - but not surprise - he’s bound the rest of the way and picked up by his upper arm uncomfortably. Crimson dribbles from his nose and he tastes it through his grit teeth. Straining to hear, his mother and father’s screams meet his ears. It’s echo offers a melancholic haze in hsi head, and rather than feeling a specific emotion, he offers a small lopsided smile, meeting their gaze for a fleeting moment peacefully. 

They struggled like their life depended on it, pushing against the people holding them back. For unspoken reasons, some sort of resolve pitted his stomach and knotted his lungs. It was like his body didn’t want to keep fighting anymore, the situation too bizarre for his mind to even accept. Thus, shutting down posed the best option. 

Perhaps the illusion his mind created to offer oasis mirage outstretched its hand; his delusions floating aimlessly to somehow believe that quitting might save his parents. This man he’d never met, he put all his faith in. Like some faceless god, he’d never actually deliver, he knew that for fact, but put his faith in him anyway.

"Keep smiling, your expectations up, and work hard. Live for each other for me. I'll see you again….one day,” A black bandana meets his eyes again, and then the panic returns. He can’t see their faces anymore. 

All he can do is hear them, now. 

"RINTAROU!!" His mother wails after him, sobs wracking his own shoulders as much as they’re shaking her. Tooth and nail isn’t even enough, and she watches her one and only son being stolen away in pure spite and inabiility to practice any form of mercy. 

The son who she tried so hard for, and worked so long to bare, now is merely stolen away. God only knows what they’re going to do to him. Kill him? Dump him somewhere?

God, how she wished it was her that was taken, not her son. "Such an interesting child,” He chimed indifferently. “It must truly...oh, what’s the word my son uses? Oh, It must suck, Mr. And Mrs. Suna, that a perfectly wonderful son is taken away from you. Well, I guess you two will finally learn your lesson.”

Pain escapes his lips, as surprise is all Suna can muster when he's thrown into the same back of the same car, followed by a loud slam as it gets slammed shut, the door grazing his knuckle. Doesn’t bleed much, he doesn’t think, but now they’re gonna be even more angry about the blood. Great. 

Clearly it’s easier to merely ignore him. Of course. “They don't even give a shit," He mutters to himself, leaning his head back, closing his eyes. Not that it mattered anyway. He felt like a child covering their eyes, claiming not to be able to hear. Not much of it made enough coherent sense, anyway, so what was the difference, anyway?

After what seems to be forever and a fleeting moment simultaneously, he’s given a break from the horrendous driving. Wildly, however, the car finally comes to a complete and smooth stop. Miraculous stuff, he swore. 

Hands encroach on him when the door reopens. By his shoulders, he’s grabbed while the ropes are being cut. There’s...rushing water right near here? Blood running cold at the sound, the rushing water prickles skin even from afar. Worst comes to worst: they’ll toss him in, he’ll drown, the end. 

Accepting this end, however, wasn’t an option. Dying wouldn’t save anyone, and the inclining urge to find help for his parents kept him going. 

Grit alone wouldn’t keep him from the fate awaiting him, however. Panic replaces his raw urge to win, and flight posed the best option for his mind, no matter ithe improbability of that option. "No! Stop it! Let me go! Let me go!" The screams a higher pitch than he desired, the voice earning nothing except several laughs from the men, his voice not quite fully developed yet. 

"Let go? Alright. Let go on the count of three," The boy pales. This is too much, they aren’t serious, they’re just bluffing. Are they really gonna throw him in there? Was this gonna be the end for him? 

"One."

He feels himself being rocked to the left then right. They’re actually gonna throw him in?

"Two."

He gets rocked left to right again, them putting a bit more power into it. He begins to brace himself for the count of three.

"THREE!" 

Wind gusts from his lungs, he takes a deep breath of air as he falls forcing it’s way. Way too soon, the ferns tickle his skin before the rushing water slams his consciousness and sweeps him away like forgotten dust bunnies.

He feels himself nearly hit the bottom, grazing something like a rock with his forearm. Hands scrambling, clamoring, they rip the blindfold off and fight the current to resurface for a new air. 

He breaks to the surface and takes a large gasp of air, coughing a bit before getting thrown under again. He fights his way to the surface once again for air. The bank to the left, to the right, taunt him. Mud chunks within his fists as he grabs at the sides. No avail. Panic constricts his throat. 

There’s no air for them anyway. 

Yips and a pawing at his arm snap him out of it. Sitting up in...yes, panic, he quickly searches blindly for what the heck is near him and comes face to face with...snout? 

W white fox with golden eyes. The fox's eyes are beautiful at first sight, almost looking human. full of worry, nerves steeled. It looks into Suna's eyes, its paw on Suna's hand that's now resting on his blankets. 

"Hey Jasper. Hey girl," he says quietly as he scratches under her chin sweetly. The movement erupts an unwelcome burning sensation and he spares a look, and to great dismay, he already knows. 

He’s been scratching again, making his skin all red and raw. The most alarming thing, as if this isn’t already scary enough, is that it's bleeding, making him silently curse to himself. On cue, Jasper barks for his parents’ assistance. Senses ever sharp.

"Jasper. Shhh, be quiet. I don't want to get in trouble again - " he whispers to the white fox, staring expectantly at the closed bedroom door.

Quick footsteps pad closer. Suddenly the thermostat must’ve dropped? He’s frozen up in terror, only to watch his parents peek in. "Suna?" He hears his father call into the room. Suna nestles himself to the wall his bed backs. "I-I didn't mean to do it again! I swear! Please don't hurt me!" He yells, a voice crack plaguing his already big insecurities.

Akaashi makes his way to his youngest son, shooing his husband away to get the medical supplies. He sits at the edge of his bed, sinking down a bit. 

"Suna, I'm not mad at you. I promise." Opening his arms gently, calmly, just like his voice, "Come here. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Neither will your father. I can assure you that,” Sweet like honey and comforting like the sun, his mother with a soft smile.

Suna feels Jasper gently nudging him to move closer to his mother. Suna slowly makes his way over to his mother, still anticipating a strike. 

Unsure of himself and...everything else, he scoots closer only to be pulled into his mother's lap and receiving a tight hug. "We love you Suna. There's no need to be afraid of us. We're not going to hurt you. Never in our life will we ever hurt you, Jasper, or your older brothers. Alright?" He tries to reassure his shaking son, hoping Bokuto will hurry up as he begins a soft tune.

Quick footsteps return to Suna's room, Akaashi gently rocks his youngest while humming, making sure the blood doesn't drip all over the sheets and allows it to fall on his own pajama pants indifferently. He glances at the doorway, finding his husband, fixing his glasses a bit as he motions his husband to come in and not waste any more time. "Sorry for taking a bit longer than usual. It wasn't in its usual spot as it normally is and wasn’t stocked up like I thought it was." 

“I told you to stock it last week, baby.”

“I know you did, sweetie, but I forgot.”

Bokuto gently grabs his youngest son's hand, gently pulling it to him to relieve his bloody arm. He cringes slightly at it, wondering how long he was scratching to make it this bloody. "I'm going to start cleaning it, alright? Want a countdown?" He ask, making Suna nod a bit. 

"Yes, please," He says quietly, earning a confirming nod from his dad. The package rips open, exposing small gray clothes soaked in rubbing alcohol. 

"Alright, three...two...one," The coldness mixed with the actual cleaning makes contact, and the arm tenses itself, stinging a sharp high-pitch. Stiffening up, he bites his tongue as his father does the best he can to be gentle with his son's arm. 

"Just breathe." His mother pauses his song for a moment to remind him, not even realizing that he was holding his breath the whole time, and then returns to his song. Koutarou starts wrapping Rintarou's arm making sure there's just enough pressure on the gauze before taping it into place. 

"And, done. You did great throughout all of that, Suna. I'm very proud of you," He offers his son a small praise, making him smile a bit. "Wanna hear a joke?"

“No, Bokuto-san, don't - " Akaashi starts, only to be cut off by his husband. Clearly it didn’t matter if he wanted to hear a joke or not.

"Eating clocks is very time consuming; especially if you go back for seconds.”

A loud smack is echoed throughout the room, "Koutarou Bokuto, you are sleeping on the couch for two nights, possibly three for interrupting me and not listening," A...more-than-angry Akaashi growls out. 

Bokuto shrugs. "Worth it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! It's finally finished and fully edited! Feel free to drop a kudos or comment. Good luck to me after having, like, three and a half hours of sleep for tomorrow, but I think I'mma nap so that'll work I guess <3


	5. Candy Couldn't Be So Sweet - Hitoka Yachi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sugar sometimes, a fist others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** Graphic depictions of physical, mental abuse. Implied sexual abuse, though not described. Read at your own risk! 
> 
> \- 
> 
> On a much-needed lighter hearted note: a friend of mine was around when I was writing this and decided to take the computer and type this, so enjoy this before I crush your heart: Yo waddup its ya gorl yachi comin at you with another video  
> This week we are going to we arr gong to be vlogging!!! Currently i am at justice buyng some more jojo siwa bows because it is a vital part of the day to day outfit! As annie always says, youre never fully dressed without a smile!
> 
> -
> 
> Another fic collab with James!! Their ideas helped this all come to fruition!

He lit a cigarette, unable to look at any other face. Even his own, he despised the cloud of smoke polluting it. Sure, the man hated that he had to weed his issues away at the expense of his lungs and pocket. Nothing made sense when he resided in the sky, it couldn’t quite become clear when he was on the drugs.

Since nothing made sense, nothing really mattered either. Only a few things were clear, and at times his cluelessness pained even his own mind. 

However, what he did know was that she looked like her, and her was gone. She was his beautiful, cursed reminder. The fact that his daughter, Hitoka - his she in the equation - continued to reside in his life under his own skin because Her decided to leave so suddenly drove him near to insanity. 

It steered him closer to going crazy than the Mary J and crystaline ever, ever would. On the...little less than off occasion his six-year-old would smile, it was too beautiful, too much like Her’s for him to bear. 

Hitoka’s weight drew heavier than the cigarette he often nursed. If weed wasn’t quite necessary and life made it alright enough, nicotine would draw the day to a close. 

Generally, in the other hand, he’d grip a bottle. It...helped. The warm wash of a newfound burn slipped down his throat to take away the cool breeze of cigarrette finished the day nicely. 

A good amount of days, everything would end peacefully right there. Sleep came easily after a nic’ high and half a bottle. Most would say the coping mechanism was less than healthy but he would just deem it a habit.  
Healthy habit? Healthy habit. 

If it was healthy to him, it was healthy. 

On the best days, he’d never see her. His daughter would never exit her room, she’d never cross his path, Hitoka wouldn’t be hurt. The wall would take his impacts, then he’d sleep. Rest came easy and then life could continue as normal the next day. 

***

“Take a deep breath, it’s the last one you’ll be able to take for awhile, sweetheart,” He said, although it wasn’t endearing in any capacity. His hand craned the front of her neck, caving her windpipe to a small extent, but held tight enough. She tapped out on his wrist, and when that came to no avail, she gripped at his wrist meekly. 

At six, he had her in weight, height, wit, strength. The entire field. In ever attribute, he was either bigger, faster, or stronger. 

And by ten fold was everything increasing when he was in the sky or floating on foam-topped beverages. Most days, it was alright. He never saw her, and he drank to forget everyone’s existences. He forget Hitoka existed, he forget he existed. That was the point, the point was to erase notice of the world.

At times the sky became bluer or it turned an entirely different color alltogether. The clouds rolled faster or they didn’t. Of course, that didn’t matter much to him, either. Nothing did. 

Again, he drank to completely wash down the bad stuff. 

She knew better than to leave her room when he was home, but a quick dash to the bathroom was necessary and she ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. He busted the knob through splitering wood, frustrated she’d try to lock it on him, and yanked her out in a choke hold. 

He hated the way she squirmed, the way she thrashed against him. God, how she had her mother’s fighting spirit. 

Hated that, too. 

Slamming her against the wall erupted through his shoulder, throwing her back-first into the peeling paint. Her head snapped back on impact, her heels following. Two dents where her feet resided followed, and the wall caved where her shoulder blades ended up. Her fragile ribs protested, a few popping out of place or cracking all together. She coughed, and struggled to grasp whatever her diaphragm could recatch. Tears tracked her face, and all he saw was red. It wasn’t hard to drown out the screams by the ringing in his ears. 

Her pleas for him to quit met rough hands and glass shards he’d jammed into his own skin after his wild daze of nausea and color inversion of the sort. His throat burned with a wicked laugher he wasn’t sure he wanted to fend off. Her little hands grabbed at his wrists weakly, everything hurt, her brain screamed for release, for air, for some sort of affection. 

Rather, she received a rough hand to grasp her airway rather than to be swept off her feet, hugged around her neck, and told everything would be alright. She hungered for the moment when she would be allowed to stand on his feet to dance rather than be crushed under his drunken heel. 

Was this how daddies were supposed to act? Was this what love felt like? 

Her understanding of love reached deep enough to the extents of him letting her go, finally, their dying, deep breaths syncing up. He doubled over his knees, she curled her own to her chest with the wall as a brace. Sobs clashed his sweat, tired from his own outburst, but words wouldn’t escape his lips ablaze. 

She begged the skies it’d be over soon. When, he rared back with a balled fist and raced it towards her beautiful, bruised face. She moved to the side with all the brain-power she had left, and that earned an even more forceful check to her left eye.  
“Don’t move from my sight. Don’t even try.”

***

Only her tears left his grasp, and that was only to roll to the floor. Nothing hurt worse than for him to come home ready to beat the daylights out of her and the house when she expected him to come home in a good mood. Beautiful sunny day, late in August, he’d promised her ice cream after school. But, when he did not arrive as per the time he stated, she had no choice but to get a ride from her sensei who promised to help her out whenever he could. 

Perhaps he fell asleep or didn’t remember. Looking back, she couldn’t fathom why she thought such silly things of Yachi-san, when he rarely ever truly came through with the positive stuff. With a personal escort of her preschool sensei and a smile, she waltzed up to the front door. He pounded on it gently with his knuckled and adjusted his glasses gently. 

The door swung wide open, ripped backwards “What do you want? Has she done something wrong?”

“No sir,” Different mixes of hard liquor and sour drugs laced his mouth, and his teeth rotted in different directions, but the sensei never flinched. “Your daughter had no way of getting home.”

“Figured she could walk,” He wasn’t the most fit man, “She’s strong enough to nowadays, ain’t she?” But, he wasn’t weak by any means. 

“She’s not old enough to, sir. This isn’t the most perfect part of town,” Hair stuck out in all directions, too. It’s overgrown look complimented by the heavy metal tank top and athletic shorts that didn’t match color schemes in any circumstance.

“Buzz off, little shit, I don’t need you to tell me how to parent. I can do that ma’self, thank you very much.”

“Miss Hitoka-kun, will you be alright if I go ahead and let you go inside? I’m sure you can come stay at my house for the evening,” His nerves kicked him in the gut. Something wasn’t right. Pieces began to line up, things seeming so vague didn’t appear oh-so-inpercievable anymore. Missing multiple consecutive days out of nowhere, bruises on her knees and shoulders. She’d jump when he walked behind her to ask her if she needed help refilling the glue, immediately dropping her hands to her lap in what seemed as an attempt at protecting herself.

Now, mixed with the alcohol he was breathing secondhand, his thoughts alligned. His student is in more danger than he ever thought possible, “No, Hitoka, we’re not going anywhere. Get inside.”

She hesitated, fully knowledgeable of what was coming. Locking her sensei’s gaze, she grabbed his t-shirt and held on, “I want to go with you, sensei.”

“Not happening. Stop being stubborn and get over it. Don’t cry, I won’t want to hear it,” He grabbed her arm, digging his nails into her skin, “Dry it up.”

“Have a nice day, sir.”

“No! Please don’t leave, sensei! I don’t want you to go - “ A hand reached around her mouth and latched her jaw.

“Shut the hell up if you know what’s good for you.”

A slam, the door was shut, the man froze outside the door, and then did the only thing he thought to possiby do: walk away, convince his mind whatever just unfolded wasn’t real, be on his way, and call the police anyway. He’d wait in the driveway in his little car, there was no way he could leave her be like this. With a man this dangerous? It’d be a violation to his promise to keep his students save. 

Hitoka Yachi was believed to be in grave danger. 

Of all the things Sawamura Daichi had seen in his days, nothing ever phased him. Dead bodies, his high school coach’s car flipped on the side of the road with them and their three children sprawling dead in the cab, a woman nearly dead with twenty-three stab wounds. Over the course of his career, volleyball as well as his true profession, he’d been knocked unconscious a total of five times. 

His best friend had fallen dead on his heels, shot in the back by a suspect during a routine traffic stop. Police work in the dead of night, when he worked, was more trying than his own marriage would EVER prove to be. Koushi, his love, his life. Hell, Kou’ couldn’t ever hurt him even if he really, really wanted to. 

Most nights, he’d taken it for granted the fact that he could pull the patrol car into the driveway, enter the front door, shower, and climb into bed to someone who’d open their arms to him even when crying was the only thing less exhausting than resting. Calloused hands would card through his hair, and he’d find sleep one way or another. 

His own heart would be so raw, so hardened he couldn’t even think that children could truly be involved with the crimes. Sure, he’d heard about the injustices within the home. But, CPS* generally handled those cases. The school systems and the Protective Services had gotten better, over the years, at identifying the signs of abuse and neglect early and investigating with the units he wasn’t a part of. 

Sawamura only worked for the force for a little over six months. 

A little over six months: his first domestic violence call came in, and he was dispatched to the house only about a mile away. He'd undoubtedly arrive first, but inevitably would have to await backup. So, when three more squad cars arrived, totaling them to a perfect six officers. 

Confident with the numbers at hand, they approached the door casually. Nothing gave them probable cause or really gave anything away at all. The house was in good condition, there was even a welcome mat to decorate the porch. 

Ding-dong. Sawamura’s hands found his hips in annoyance. How could the neighbor’s even be slightly alarmed when there wasn’t even any noise? Not at all what was expected. 

The doorbell provided a line of hope for the six-year-old who was desperately fighting to protect herself, against someone immensely bigger and stronger than her. Nothing made sense, why did he wish to hurt her? Why couldn’t he just be loving? Why wasn’t he? Was it normal to feel this way, to hurt this way, to be touched in this manner? 

In all honesty, sure it was normal. Did all kids get treated this way? 

Maybe, but she didn’t like this normalcy. Telling him ‘no’ or ‘stop’ did nothing, but when she told her sensei something simple like: ‘no, I would like to use the purple crayon instead,’ would cause him to listen, not force her to use the purple. If she didn’t want to answer a question on the board, and she shook her head, he would nod and pick someone else. 

What did make sense is that she wanted out. She wanted him to listen. 

“Sensei!” She called out, but it was rather weak in nature, and when his grip only tightened, that was all she needed to...raise her volume. At this point, it was now or never. All that registered was a red: flight, because fighting at this point would prove to be feeble. She couldn’t get away without some help. 

She screamed for whoever could hear her, even though she was only six, her voice could be used as a deadly weapon against him. One of his hands reached for her mouth but at that point, even that could not encase what she sought to do. 

Sure, she’s six, but stubborn as hell. 

Everything about her father hurt her. When he looked at her, she ached; when he grabbed her, it hurt; it didn’t make sense. Why was it that when she saw her friends with their dad’s, they hugged them and held their hands. 

She wanted to stay out of his way. She wanted out of his house. Hitoka couldn’t comprehend why, but it never felt safe. Pain wasn’t fun, the way he played wasn’t fun. 

He never held her hand. 

Sawamura flinched when he heard the noise, and radioed to dispatch before motioning to his fellow officers, “That’s our probable cause.” 

A hard shoulder sprung the deadbolt encasement through the frame, and one hinge held on to the door from there. The inside reeked of rancid alcohol, sweet weed and cigarette reek. Everything felt out of place, he felt out of place in someone else’s home. He felt uninvited. 

But the way he stood over that little girl, the way he reached: that was uninvited. He didn’t like that. She looked young, maybe five. Tears wet her face and eyes registered fatigue from fighting. Brave kid, he had to admit. 

Something about how this man seemed to treat his little girl, his princess, just boiled his blood and marrow and entire being. His face heated up as the man before the officers froze, clearly far gone on something wack and definitely illegal. The girl’s face begged for them to save her, to make it stop. 

That’s what he did, then. Before his head caught up, his feet bounded forward in quick strides and he tackled the man...completely accidentally elbow first, catching the side of his face before he even realized quite what was happening. 

He let go of her completely, losing all grip on his daughter. 

Whatever was left of it, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Second part is being released VERY soon so ready yourself for that! Suna's backstory was posted last night (fully, the second part is now updated and completely finished) so check that out if you missed that! Please don't come after me for naming my chapters literally after the songs I'm listening to at that exact time, but that just leaves it up for interpretation! 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos!! It helps keep motivation up! Love y'all!
> 
> P.S. you can leave author specific comments!! Just address us as follows (see below) and we'll answer ourselves!!
> 
> For Cal, (he/him)
> 
> For Iwa/James, (they/them)


	6. Hitoka Yachi - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the world caves in, exotically we can always split it back open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Game analogies are so so so fun to write. This time it's chess and, let me tell you, I don't know the FIRST think about chess, but enough to make stupid analogies. So, just suffer with us, kay?
> 
> ***TW! MENTIONED abuse and implied sexual abuse. Nothing graphic***

It wasn’t exactly a procedure to completely take someone out in that manner. Sure, they were told to protect the innocent and up hold justice (I know, cheesy right?) at all costs. So, choosing to protect this little girl was the next best step to following that simple commitment. 

A pain in his elbow reminded him, however, that he wasn’t invincible, either, and that he’d done that to himself. Landing like so, joint first, didn’t quite fit anything positive for his health, however it did prove that point that his adrenaline could pull him through as it generally did. Dare he claim he could become a superhero for a moment in time. For a split second: he was beautifully invincible. 

Again, a sort of overconfidence spread about him. This man was in shock, he buzzed with newfound, potential-energy-chocked adrenaline with so much to do with. The first was done, getting he and the child separated so he couldn’t use her to gain any upper hand in the “negotiation” in case he took her hostage.

The pain, anyway, was all made worth it, however, when he heard the breath leave what he presumed to be her father’s lungs. Like music to Sawamura’s ears, he’d effectively immobilized him and got him off of...overtop of the little, small, precious nearly...toddler frozen in shock only a few feet away. 

Nothing could have ever prepared him for what he saw happening as the door splintered open to reveal. The crickety-crack of several ribs underneath his hands was a minor inconvenience in his book, especially compared to the little girl’s condition, only a few solid meters away. 

Sweet baby was crying her eyes out for Asahi-knows reasons. The sounds and lights and dull pain confused him to such an extent he almost forgot what he was doing in the first place. The tackle was only the first move. A minor pawn in his choices 

Every move he made and would make: calculated. Even risky. They remained pointed, generally genuinely unconcerned for the actual future of the decision in and within itself. 

His wife, Koushi, called them irrational and very nearly childishly immature. He considered them intuitive for the moment considering everything required split-second decisions. Everything was on a whim somehow. 

Similarly enough, an invisible force, like gravity, kept pulling him to make the move quicker and quicker. Between the time he impacted the man verses when they hit the floor, ten-thousand years passed in a moment and a moment passed in ten-thousand years. Everything about the situation boiled his blood and increased the supersaturation of adrenaline. 

He wanted to kill this guy. Genuinely, honestly, bloodlustly. 

Sawamura Daichi wasn’t a stupid man. Perhaps not according to his wife, but he wasn’t stupid.

A degree in law and eight weeks of actual hands-on training wasn’t needed for him to draw conclusions. They’d taught that for years. Read between the lines, context clues. This man was beating and abusing his daughter in more ways than one. 

In more...perverted, disgusting ways than one. 

But, even so, he was too drunk to do anything worse or fight back all that much more than paragraph after paragraph of slurs and hate speech and curses. Anyway, that seemed all he he was capable of anyway, given his...excellent condition. 

Not much made sense in the blurs that was the last...ten minutes? Ten hours? She wasn’t sure. Was the relief she felt allowed? She felt guilty about it. Considering, you know, it all folding together like a badly dealt hand. 

Even after, the terror didn’t quite cease. Men (and, whom she finds out much, much later in life) and a trans woman flood her house and talk loudly and tackle her daddy and take him away in handcuffs as he’s shouting at her and them and being fiery and scary. Like usual, why’s this time special? 

Wondering if he’s gonna break free and hit her again. When they let him go, what’s he gonna wanna do? Is he gonna drink from the cabinet again, go without food for days in the house? 

“Sweetheart, sweetheart. I need you to relax, it’s okay, we’re just gonna help you feel better, just relax,” A new voice from a navy-blue uniformed young man says, and reaches his hand forward as to which she shrinks away from. Form battered and bruised, it’s hard to move. 

She does anyway, crying hard. Are these men going to make things hurt and continue to even after she tells them no?

“Wait, wait, wait, look what I’ve found,” Sawamura emerges from the back bedroom after a quick search (yielding things much more intriguing that he’s willing to admit, the setup of the whole drug-operation the ‘father’ had going on is not one he’d seen before). Always prepared, he’s got a stuffed animal clipped to his belt in the back, always ready for the kids he encounters. “I’ve got a chinchilla.”

Hitoka melts immediately. Not as in meltdown, thank Asahi, but into a smile and reaches cautiously for it, “chrincilla?”

“Yep, and Mr. Chinchilla says that if you’re really good for the paramedics who’re here to protect you, you can ride in the police car with the sirens on. And, you can hold him and keep him if you want, too, but we have to be quiet and listen to the doctors. Deal?”

She nods happily and accepts the animal into her arms, “‘Kay!”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Children can be so simple sometimes. 

Thank Asahi for that one. The rest of the investigation flows smoothly. The knights move in for the attack, her father’s pawns falling and falling. Mr. Yachi is not getting his daughter back. 

But where is she gonna go then?

Plaguing thoughts and adventurous curiosity lad his mind to wander, as if he wasn’t naturally distracted anyway.

Texting Suga (yes, of course, off-scene) proved to be the most strategic move of all.

‘Babe I’ve got the craziest idea ever’

‘Oh? And what’s that?’

‘Let’s adopt kids.’

Check mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please please leave kudos or comments if you enjoyed. They're HUGE confidence boosters and motivators. Take care of yourself. We love y'all. 
> 
> -Cal & James

**Author's Note:**

> Drop whatever you want to in the comments. Head-canons. A part you loved. Heck, drop a part you didn't like. Hit the kudos, send to your friends, read it to your dog (no, actually, don't do that or you'll depress your dog, too) but most importantly: stay plus ultra, thirsty, and simpin' for whatever anime men or women or whoever's in between. And, remember that you're valid!!


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